The clamor continued, but Christina no longer heard it as she threw herself against Richard and felt his free arm tighten around her. She didn’t hear the door lock again or Robert’s suggestion to the guard that he might be able to offer him some relief for his painful foot. She never heard them leave, never noticed when the men finally ceased their shouting and went back to their beds. She only heard the strong, steady beating of Richard’s heart as he held her.
“We’ve tried so hard to see you, but they wouldn’t let us in,” she whispered against the soft linen of his clean shirt.
“Hush, Sweetheart. I know. Robert told me. None of that matters now.” Finally, he released her and led her to the table.
“Oh, Richard, I’ve been so worried.”
“I know, Chrissa. But as you can see, I’m all right.” He noticed her staring at his arm, which was now in a sling. “It’s fine, really. The ball passed through my shoulder and Robert’s very happy with the way it’s healing.” He moved his injured arm and his hand to show her that he could. “He just wants me to rest it for a few more days.”
She just looked at him and the expression on her face broke his heart.
“Chrissa, I want you to do something for me. I want you to go to the abbey with Robert until all this is over. You’ll be safe there.”
“I won’t leave you.”
“Sweetheart, be reasonable. We both know that Guy won’t give you up so easily. And I worry for you and the baby.”
“I won’t go.”
“Chrissa, I need to know that you’re safe.”
“And what about me? I need to know that
you’re
safe.”
“Robert will still come and he can tell you everything.”
“No…”
Richard wasn’t able to conceal his frustration.
“Chrissa, there’s nothing you can do!” he said a bit too loudly.
“There
is
something I can do. I’m going to testify at the trial.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m going to tell them that you couldn’t have killed Marco because you spent the night with me.”
He bent over her, taking her by the shoulder with his free hand, perhaps with a little more force than was necessary.
“Chrissa, you can’t do that!”
“I can, and I will.”
Richard knelt down in front of her and took her hand, placing it in the one that was in the sling, then gripping it with his free hand, as well. His eyes held her as tightly as his hands did.
“Christina, listen to me. You cannot testify. You know Guy will be furious if you announce publicly that we were lovers. It can only make things worse.”
She started to interrupt, but he gently laid his finger against her lips.
“If something goes wrong—if somehow I’m convicted—I won’t be able to protect you or our child. Chrissa, you…you and the baby are my life. I have to know you’re safe.”
She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, a kiss he returned with all the love he felt for her and all the fear he had for her safety.
“Chrissa, will you go to Corsica?” he asked, suddenly realizing it could be the solution to the problem. He knew that Arabella would take care of her and protect her and the baby.
“Richard, I love you. But I will only go to Corsica when the trial is over, when you are free and can go with me.”
Then they heard Robert and the guard coming back down the stairs.
By the end of the first week of Richard’s incarceration, it became obvious to Robert that there was some unidentified force at work in his brother’s case. Though he thoroughly disapproved of the conventional series of bribes and threats that allowed members of the nobility to avoid prosecution, he was not above such attempts, now. Nevertheless, inquiries, discreet and otherwise, proved unfruitful and at every turn he ran into a stone wall of resistance.
He even took Christina to speak to the Magistrate, insisting as the only remaining relative of the deceased, she should have some influence over the prosecution. Bribes or no, that should have been enough for the Magistrate to set aside the trial, but the man was adamant. There would be a trial. Despite his uncompromising position, Robert suspected the Magistrate was being pressured by his superior.
This only served to make Christina more determined than ever to testify on Richard’s behalf.
As soon as Robert sensed the chilly climate surrounding Richard’s case, he sent Grégoire to Versailles to elicit a pardon from the King, just in case they should need it. He was confident his father’s influence would make that a simple procedure and he chose to be safe rather than sorry.
Cybelle and Lauro and the children arrived at the townhouse as soon as they heard the news and reported that Raymond had also undertaken a visit to Versailles on Richard’s behalf.
Christina was grateful for the company and the presence of the children. Having Cybelle to talk to about her pregnancy helped a great deal and encouraged her to take better care of herself and the baby.
Maryse, though she was not allowed in to see Richard, wrote and offered any help she might be able to give. She even sent her lawyer to assist the aged Monsieur Autexier and his staff, who had served Richard’s family all of his life. Richard did write her and request that she help Christina as much as possible and do her best to dissuade her from testifying. But while Christina was grateful for Maryse’s company and support, she was steadfast in her determination to be the deciding factor in Richard’s case.
And so they all waited the three weeks until the trial was to begin.
Arabella was worried as the days passed without any word from Richard. Gérrard sent a brief message up to her when the ship that was to carry Richard and Christina arrived without them, but it was nearly eight more days before Robert’s letter arrived.
She sensed he was trying not to alarm her, still it was obvious that the situation was serious. She immediately wrote two letters: one to Richard, in a very housekeeperly fashion—assuming that it would be opened and read by many before it reached him—wherein she assured him of her prayers and reminded him that he should feel comfortable sending Christina along, alone. The second was to Robert, begging that he keep her informed and also suggesting to him that Christina be sent to Bonifacio.
And while she waited, she continued to care for Alfredo. He was failing. He ate less and slept more as the days passed, but at least she knew he was comfortable. And his grandson Tomas came daily to help her with the heavy work and with his grandfather. Still, she felt helpless as she waited—waited for news of Richard, waited for Alfredo to finally let go of life and waited for the arrival of the child that stirred impatiently within her body.
The trial took place in the large courtroom in the
Hôtel de Ville
. The Magistrate and the two other judges sat at one end of a long room filled with people, some involved with the testimony and many others who were merely curious. Normally, the trial of a member of the nobility brought out a crowd of hostile thrill seekers, but the universal respect for Richard’s father assured that most of the spectators were disposed in his favor.
Christina sat in the first row of seats behind the chair reserved for the accused. Maryse sat on one side of her, Cybelle and Lauro on the other. But she was further insulated by the guards Robert had hired, one on each end of the row in which she sat and two directly behind her. She needn’t have worried about a confrontation with Guy, for he and Stefano came a good deal later and sat on the opposite side of the room. Nonetheless, she could feel his eyes on her. She did her best to avoid looking at him, but when she cast a glance in his direction, she briefly found herself paralyzed by his stare. His hold on her was broken when the side doors to the courtroom opened and Richard was brought in by two armed guards.
Witnesses came and went. Various people from the Baron’s household staff testified, and in an effort to protect Richard, most claimed that they no longer clearly remembered what had happened. All said that Richard had always been on friendly terms with Marco and that Richard was not inclined to fits of temper, but several of the servants were forced to admit the murder weapon was the distinctive dagger Richard had been given by his father. Robert was called upon to testify as to the type of wound and cause of death. The Magistrate refused to let him speak on Richard’s behalf and at that point hastily finished the questioning.
The uneasy whispers that filled the room stopped abruptly when Richard took his place in the witness box facing the three judges.
The Magistrate began. “You are Richard René Louis Magniet, youngest son of the late Baron of Beauvu?”
“I am. And Baron in my own right since my father’s death.” Richard didn’t hesitate to remind them just who it was they were dealing with.
“Would you please give us an account of the events on the night of May 16, 1752?”
“I had been at sea. The ship returned to Arles somewhat later than expected, having been delayed by bad weather. The rain stopped briefly and I decided to try to make the ride home. It seems I rode into the storm rather than away from it, and did not arrive at Beauvu until sometime after midnight. I had no wish to wake the house and since the stableman was not there, I decided to spend the rest of the night in the stable.”
“Are we to believe that a man of your position would sleep in a stable rather than his own comfortable bed out of deference to servants?” The oldest judge obviously expected a snicker from the spectators, but the room remained silent.
“You may believe whatever you like. That is the truth. My arrival would have brought at least a dozen people from their beds. I was only interested in drying off and sleeping. Where I slept was of little importance to me.”
“Did you see Marco DiClementi that night?”
“I did. He arrived in the stable just as I unsaddled my horse.”
“Did you not find this unusual?”
“I was surprised, of course. But Monsieur DiClementi was upset. He had something to tell me.”
“Which was?” the Magistrate said sharply.
“That his father had been forced to consent to a marriage between his sister, Mademoiselle DiClementi, and his father’s business partner, Monsieur Jonvaux.”
“‘Forced,’ Monsieur?” the third judge said, with a note of suspicion.
“Monsieur Jonvaux had inherited his father’s business earlier in the year and was therefore, himself, in partnership with Monsieur DiClementi. According to Monsieur DiClementi, Monsieur Jonvaux demanded payment of certain debts, and in order to avoid financial ruin, Monsieur DiClementi agreed to the marriage.”
“It is our understanding that all of you, that is you and the victim, his sister, and Monsieur Jonvaux all grew up together. Is there any reason why the idea of Monsieur Jonvaux marrying Mademoiselle DiClementi should surprise you?”
“It was always assumed that she and I would marry.”
“Oh? So you were in love with her at the time?”
“I was.”
“So it’s understandable that you found this news upsetting?”
“I found it ridiculous.”
Christina, who was barely breathing as she hung on every one of Richard’s words, stole a quick glance at Guy. She saw him grit his teeth as the color rose in his cheeks.
“‘Ridiculous,’ Monsieur
?
” the old judge said sarcastically.
“I would never have allowed the marriage to take place.”
“I fail to see how you might have prevented it,” the third judge mumbled, sarcastically, just loud enough to be heard in the silent room. Richard stared at the man coldly. As he started to open his mouth to answer, the judge waved his reply aside.
“Nevertheless, please tell the court your response to Monsieur Di Clementi’s news?”
“I thanked him, assured him that we would be able to work something out in the morning, and told him goodnight. He left and I went to bed in the stableman’s room. I was unaware that anything had happened to him until the next morning when one of the servants discovered his body.”
“So you deny killing him?”
“I do.”
“But you admit that he was killed with a dagger that belonged to you?”
“Yes, I saw his body and the dagger.”
“And how do you suppose your dagger might have found its way into your friend?”
“I have no idea. I had been carrying it and when I came into the stable, and I hung the scabbard along with my other things on a hook outside the door to the stableman’s room.”
“Are you trying to convince us that someone who wished Monsieur DiClementi harm, crept into the stable well after midnight, stole your dagger, performed the deed and then disappeared into thin air?”
“Certainly not.”
“Well then, what would you have us believe?” the oldest judge asked with an air of boredom.
“Only that I am innocent.”
“Monsieur, I think you were upset by the news of Mademoiselle DiClementi’s upcoming marriage and that you killed your friend in a fit of rage.”
“If I were angry enough to kill anyone, don’t you think it would have been more logical for me to have killed Monsieur Jonvaux?” Richard answered reasonably. “And if I’d had any sense at all, would I have used a weapon so obviously associated with me?”
“I must caution you, Monsieur. We will not tolerate such impertinent behavior!” the old judge added in a feeble voice.
“Monsieur
,
I think it is quite obvious,” the Magistrate began, a little louder than necessary, “that you spent the night in the stable because you killed your friend and you were afraid of the consequences!”
“That’s absurd!”
Richard’s reply was followed by applause and hoots of
“bravo”
from the room full of people. The Magistrate banged the table before him until the room quieted.
“Then why did you spend the night in the stable?”
“I told you before…”
“That’s no answer. Why did you spend the night in the stable?”
The noise and confusion in the room brought Christina to her feet.
“He was with me!” she shouted above the sound of the crowd and instantly the room fell silent again.
The Magistrate looked at her in surprise. Guy scowled. Stefano watched, fascinated. The Magistrate looked at Richard.